


lost and found

by nilchance



Series: ain't this the life [16]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fellcest - Freeform, M/M, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), eventual spicykustard, offscreen kustard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance
Summary: Red tries something new.





	lost and found

As soon as they're through the shortcut, Red grabs Edge by the scarf and tries to drag him down. 

Apparently Edge is on the same wavelength, because he meets Red halfway in a devouring kiss. There's a bitter taste in his mouth. Later. He'll ask later when Edge isn't backing him towards the bed, fumbling with their clothes. Red returns the favor, blindly undoing Edge's belt, unzipping his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. Once both of them are undressed, snatching kisses from each other the whole while and seriously, fuck Edge’s stupid pants, Edge pushes him onto the bed and follows him there, pinning him down, surrounding him. He smells like dust, like home, a pang of sick nostalgia.

Edge is alive. He's back and now Red can breathe for the first time in three fucking days. His relief is all tied up with his want, his body throbbing for Edge's touch, his magic formed from the second Edge first kissed him. He puts his hands on warm bare bone and he doesn't dig his fingers in. He doesn't know what kind of bruises and cracks Edge's got going on. He has to be careful.

(No. Bullshit. He _wants_ to be careful.)

When Edge pulls away from his mouth to bite his jaw, working his way to Red's spine, Red turns throat. He turns it easy, without a fight, shuddering as Edge bites down. That'll leave a mark. Edge is too fucking tall for Red to reach his pelvis like this, so he fingers the back of Edge's neck where it's sensitive, tracing the line of a scar that doesn't technically exist. Edge shivers for him. Red says, "Skip the warm-up and just fuck me."

"Hm." Edge presses a kiss to Red's collarbone, followed by another bite. Red can hear him smirking. "Impatient."

"C'mon." Red laughs, an unsteady thing. "I waited for your dumb ass for three days."

When Red fell, Edge waited two weeks, and the odds had been a hell of a lot slimmer. That was the only thing that kept Red from losing his fucking mind. Edge waited for him. The least Red could do is hold out for two weeks before he crashed and burned.

Edge pulls back to look at him. His expression is a soft underbelly just waiting for some asshole with a knife. That somebody could be Red. He could try to teach Edge for the billionth fucking time not to give a shit about him.

But trying to make Edge a cold bastard never worked, not really, and it didn't save him from getting dragged back to hell. Even infected with sentimental bullshit and saddled with dead weight, Edge still came back alive.

Maybe Red was wr--

Not tonight. It doesn't have to be that way tonight. That's all. He can re-examine his entire life philosophy when he's got his pants back on.

"You gonna fuck me or what?" Red asks. He’s not gonna deliberately be an asshole about it but Edge looking down at him with that tender expression is making him feel weird. He’s got limits.

Edge gives him an actual laugh, which is always a hard-won victory. Then he shifts so they can kiss again, sliding his hand between Red's femurs. When he finds Red good to go, wet with anticipation, Edge doesn't fuck around with him. He lines himself up and fills Red slow, a sweet burning stretch even with how ready for it Red is. The rightness of it hurts like a bone being reset so it can heal straight. Red’s moan comes from somewhere deep and raw and Edge lets out a shuddering breath.

They’ve had _oh shit, we both almost died_ sex before. Their universe was so fucked up that it’s happened a dozen times, although the stark fucking terror was never dulled by repetition. It was always fast and desperate and rough, up against a wall or a tree, grasping hands and sharp teeth, trying to carve out some small moment in all the pointless awfulness of the universe to say that they were together, and they mattered, and they were still fucking alive.

This is different. Edge takes his time, moving in him like he’s trying to make Red lose his fucking mind, and Red doesn’t try to needle him into going faster, being rougher. He doesn’t run his mouth. He’s afraid of what he’ll say. His hands roam over Edge’s shoulders, his arms, his spine, any part of Edge that he can feel, mapping his body, reading it like braille as Edge fucks him deep and slow.

All the sweetly awful things Edge has done to him and he’s never been stripped down like this. His instincts are screaming at him to jerk away like this is an attack he can dodge, like it’s going to kill them both, but it just makes the pleasure sharper. One direct touch to his clit and he’ll come apart, but he doesn’t want it to be over. He _likes_ it. He’s trembling like Edge has a knife to his throat, trying to keep still.

Edge’s fingers hook in the collar, the pressure against his spine familiar and comforting. He doesn’t pull it taut, just holds onto it, a reminder of what it represents. It helps. Red melts beneath him, winding his arms around Edge’s neck, trying to pull him closer even if there’s not much space between them. Edge gives him what he wants.

It doesn’t last long enough. It’s too good to last. They’re both tired; Edge probably didn’t even close his eyes while he was gone. Red can hear his breathing deepen like it does when he’s close, struggling to hold out until Red gets off first. Stubborn bastard. Red has a type. Seeing as Red’s been right on the edge for what feels like an eternity, holding himself back because he’s a greedy motherfucker, it’s not gonna be hard to oblige him.

He lets it all roll him under: the scent of Edge’s bones, the weight of Edge on top of him, the sweet friction of Edge pressing against all the right places inside him. It’s too much, which is just the way he likes it, pleasure rising sharp in him. Both their souls are burning bright, yearning towards each other. In a shaky voice that doesn’t sound like his, he says, “Papyrus--”

Edge shudders, his back arching, and claims Red’s mouth in a kiss that’s a demand and a promise. It’s hard to tell which of them come first, it’s that close and that intense, both of them shaking. When it’s over, he’s clinging to Edge’s neck tight enough that it probably aches and Edge is breathing raggedly in his ear like he just got out of a fight.

Yep. Okay. That… was a thing that Red just let happen.

Edge pushes himself off Red a little, letting him actually breathe. They make eye contact. Eye contact is a definite mistake. Edge’s expression is parked somewhere between hope and wariness, like he’s just waiting for Red to freak out and go for his throat in the afterglow. Red never gave him a reason to expect otherwise.

Averting his eyes, Red says gruffly, “Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”

“Of course not,” Edge says after a moment. He’d have every right to sound bitter, considering, but he only sounds warmly amused. Fond. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Red gives his shoulder a shove. Not a hard one. “Now get up and lemme take a look at those bruises. Did you walk into every single punch or something?”

“I’m fine,” Edge says. He rolls off Red, wincing a little. Not enough that anybody but Red would see it, but still a wince. Now that he’s not directly on top of Red, it’s easier to see the pattern of bruises and what look like a couple new cracks in his ribs. “It’ll heal.”

“Yeah, but there’s no point being a dumbass about it.” Basking in the faint ache of his cunt, Red positions himself at Edge’s back so he can get a closer look at his spine. Fractures in the ribs are one thing, but scarring in the spine’ll fuck things right up. He’s no great healer but he’s can deal with that much. “So what’d I miss?”

Edge tenses, all the post-coital easiness gone. He’s silent for a long, ominous moment. “Asgore is dead.”

Might as well say that gravity stopped working, or there was an earthquake and the whole underground collapsed. Red’s wished somebody would kill that motherfucker so many times. When Edge killed his first monster. When Red cast his first judgment, still young enough to hope that Asgore would actually listen to him. The first time Asgore made him judge his brother. Every time Asgore made Edge break a couple of Red’s bones for ‘insubordination’. Every time Asgore said _my judge_. But Red knew it’d never happen. Asgore was eternal. When he finally ran out of people to kill, he’d play house with his ghosts alone.

Apparently not.

One more vicious, giddy relief to add to the rest of it. Red says,“Good fucking riddance. So who did the deed? Did the fishbitch finally pull her head out of her ass?”

“It was Sans,” Edge says.

Red snorts. “Yeah, right. Seriously, who was it?”

Edge turns his head to look at him. There’s no humor in his expression. Then again, it’s not the kind of joke Edge would make. Which means Sans…

Slowly, Red says, “Maybe you better start from the beginning.”

So Edge does. Edge lays it all out for him: the shortcut misfire, the collaring, the fight in the woods, healing Sans’s busted-ass soul, the order for Red’s execution, Undyne screwing them, waking up from being drugged (which explains the bitter taste in his mouth) and fighting his way to the castle only to find Asgore already dead, Undyne telling Edge she’ll kill him if she sees him again. All of it. It takes a while. By the time Edge runs out of words, Red’s finished checking for cracks. He just listens.

Edge rubs his brow like he has a headache. Alphys’s meds can do that to a guy. “Then we went home and had weird sex, as Papyrus put it. You’re caught up. And you kept your smartass comments to yourself, which means you’re thinking and doubtless have something to add. Enlighten me.”

Red says, “I knew Sans was fucking annoying but I didn’t figure he could talk a guy to death.”

Disbelieving, Edge demands, “That’s what you take from all of that?”

“Hey, it’s a lot to take in,” Red says. “I missed a shit-ton. Shoulda been there.”

Edge shakes his head, his expression tight around the eyes. “At least you were safe.”

“And not watching your back,” Red says, an edge (ha) in his voice. “Fuck that.”

“I managed.”

Red prods one of the nastiest bruises that’s bloomed across the left side of Edge’s rib cage. Edge hisses irritably. “Yeah, I can tell by the way you got drugged and had the shit kicked out of you. Next time you get sent to another fucking universe, you goddamn well better bring me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Edge says, managing to sound both gentle and dry as dust.

“Good,” Red says.

The first words Red said to Edge when he came stumbling out of the machine were _you scared the shit out of me._ He meant them. There’s still the last dregs of anxiety lurking around his mind, promising some fucking awful nightmares when he tries to close his eyes, a full-screen depiction of all the things that might’ve happened. Edge could’ve died in so many different ways and he’d never have known.

And okay, yeah, he might have a couple of those nightmares about Sans dying at the end of a trident. So fucking what.

“Did I miss anything of note?” Edge asks.

Red shrugs. “Papyrus paced a lot. I fixed the machine. Woulda been faster but hey, it turns out Sans didn’t tell Papyrus about the resets, so that cost me like an hour to clean up his fucking mess. That’s kind of a running theme, huh?”

“He didn’t--” Edge starts, indignant, then sighs. “No. Of course he didn’t.”

“Yep,” Red agrees. “He’s a dipshit and you collared him. Congrats.”

Edge gives him a sharp look, searching Red’s face. “Do you object?”

Might be interesting to know what Edge plans to do if he _did_ have objections all of a sudden, but he’s in a merciful mood. "Nah. Me and Sansy just gotta have a little talk, that's all."

Edge's eyes narrow. "A talk like the one you had a few days ago?"

"The guy's been playing ding-dong-ditch with death. I'm pissed but I ain't pissed enough to kill him. I'll play nice."

If anything, Edge looks more suspicious. "You're not exactly known for your patience, brother."

"He's good in the sack," Red says. Edge just keeps looking at him, one brow lifted, totally not buying it. Funny how Red missed that look. He shrugs. "When it came down to you or his morals, he picked you. The only other person who’d kill for you was Undyne."

Edge gets a pinched look around the eyes at the mention of her name. That’s gonna fuck him up for a while, probably. He doesn’t trust easy and he thought of Undyne like family. Considering that Red’s been his only family for most of his life, that probably should’ve told Edge something about the wisdom of automatically trusting family as far as he could throw them.

“I would’ve been fine,” Edge says.

He’s still bruised to hell after three days of healing up, full HP or not. Red has his doubts. But he's not gonna win that argument so he says, "Sans didn't know that. And he took out Asgore. That buys him some slack from me. Not a lot, but some."

He’d been so goddamn sure Sans was dead. He'd hoped that Sans fixed the machine first and that Edge didn't die trying to protect him, but there'd been no point hoping Sans would come back alive. As the days passed, Red had been trying to figure out how they'd keep Papyrus from falling apart when Edge came back without him.

And then, welp, who should come lurching out of the portal but Sans. Turns out that little fucker is hard to kill. When Red put his arms around him, he'd realized that Sans dying would’ve actually messed him up. Not as much as losing Edge, it wouldn’t kill him, but it would’ve hurt.

"'Course, my playing nice ain't like most other people's," Red says. "And I might change my mind once I see exactly how bad his soul is. We’ll see."

"Ah yes," Edge says. "You have so much room to talk when it comes to hiding the state of your soul until it nearly kills you."

Red grimaces. "It's been three years. You ever gonna let that go?"

"You almost dying of stupidity? No, I'm afraid not. I--"

Abruptly, Edge straightens. Red tenses with him, automatically looking for the threat. His hand prickles with magic. He asks sharply, "What?"

Which is when Edge pulls a damn cat out of his inventory. Because that's absolutely a normal thing that people do. What the fuck. 

The stinking, furry hellbeast immediately launches himself out of Edge's arms and lands on the floor, craning his head back to yowl at Edge. If a cat could curse like a sailor, it'd sound like that.

"Aw, boss, didja have to bring the fucking cat?" Red gripes. The cat gives him the stinkeye.

"I wasn't going to leave him behind," Edge says, mortally offended. "I'd sooner leave you."

"In your inventory?" Red demands. "He's gonna piss in your boots and it's gonna be hilarious."

"He hasn't done that since he was a kitten," Edge says defensively. He holds out his fingers. "I'm sorry, Fang. Come here."

The cat launches his ugly ass onto the bed beside them. Giving Edge a wide berth, Doomfanger wanders over to sniff Red's hand. He looks all right. Not hurt, anyway. Maybe a little skinny. Red’ll sneak him some burgers when Edge is at work, a _congrats on not being dead_ present.

After a thorough sniff, Red prepares for the usual disdainful dismissal. Instead, Doomfanger bangs his head into Red's hand. Despite himself, Red feels his expression go soft. He scritches the side of Doomfanger's face and the cat leans into it hard enough to break his wrist.

"Hey, fucker," Red says. "They got this thing here they call neutering. You're gonna love it."

"It's part of responsible pet ownership," Edge sniffs. He stands. "I should set up the litter box. Make yourself useful and throw this in the wash."

He tosses something else out of his inventory. Thankfully, it's not another cat. It's Sans’s hoodie. When Red catches it, he feels something sticky and unnaturally cold. He turns the hoodie over. There's a handprint on the shoulder, black as the space between the stars.

"Hey," Red says.

Edge stops on a dime, caught by the tone of Red's voice. Suddenly he's not the soft and squishy Edge who collects cats and fucked up dudes. He's the guy who can survive whatever hell throws at him. "What is it?"

Red holds the hoodie up. "You see that handprint?"

Edge's brow furrows. "No."

Something in the void, Sans said.

Red drops the hoodie, wiping his hand on his shorts. "Heh. You remember me telling you about Gaster? I think he was the one who shoved you back home."

Edge's frown deepens. He's always taken that thing where Red can remember Gaster but he can't personally, the control freak. "Why?"

"Dunno. To see what'd happen, maybe. That'd be the doc's style. The one I knew, anyway," Red says. "Or maybe he's got some reason to be real pissed at Sans and you got dragged along for the ride."

"You never mentioned that Gaster was alive," Edge says.

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't fucking know! Falling in the Core ain't the kind of thing you just walk off," Red snaps. “I dunno why he’s not dead, I dunno how he ended up in the void, and I dunno how he got the umph to launch somebody across universes because he sure as fuck didn’t have that before. Sans didn’t bother to tell me jack shit.”

“He may not have known,” Edge says, which is showing a lot of faith in the honesty of a guy who lies his ass off to everybody he loves. “He seemed genuinely shaken.”

“Maybe. I’ll talk to him. Get some information on what kinda trouble we’re dealing with here.” When Edge gives him another pointed look, Red rolls his eyes. “I told you, I’m not gonna rough him up. You’re all attached to him and shit.”

“Meanwhile, you have no feelings on the matter whatsoever,” Edge says dryly.

“Nope. Nada.” Red grins at him. “Hey, by the by, real shame I missed the whole subspace thing. Guess you’ll just hafta do it again so I can watch.”

Hilariously, Edge actually goes a little pink and flustered. Guilty too. “It wasn’t intentional. He was _dying_. That would’ve been completely inappropriate.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist about it.” Red yawns, scratching his ribs. “I went down like a ton of bricks the first time you healed my soul and I was awake for it, remember? We weren’t even screwing back then. Just happened. Endorphins and shit.”

“I remember,” Edge murmurs. Must be a good memory, with that expression on his face. He looks like he’s thinking about maybe climbing back into bed, to hell with the cat for now.

Red leans back against the headboard, indolent, all _come and get me_. Edge’s gaze slides down between his open legs and Red smirks because he’s winning. “Bet he was pretty, though.”

“Yes.” Edge says it like a secret, his voice rough. Then he clears his throat. “But I’m leaving it be for now. Until I know it’s welcome.”

“If you’re expecting him to make the next move, you’re gonna be waiting a while,” Red says.

“Then I’ll wait,” Edge says. “I’m not going to take advantage of him.”

Funny. Red saw the way Edge looked at Sans before they left, and the way Sans was looking back. He saw the way Sans clutched the collar even after he tried to give it back. His brother wants Sans even more than he did when he left, and he’d already had it pretty bad to begin with. Sans wants him too even if he’s got it buried under twenty sedimentary layers of pure bullshit.

But fine. Whatever. If Edge wants him to, Red’ll let it lie for a while and be the weird conduit for their sexual tension. Twice the orgasms. It’s a tough job but somebody’s gotta do it.

“All right,” Red says amiably. “So how about you take advantage of me instead?”

One corner of Edge’s mouth quirks in an almost smile. “How kind of you to offer. The cat litter is in the pantry. I’m going to shower. Join me when you’re done setting up a box for Doomfanger.”

And the bastard walks away, headed for the bathroom. Nice view, though.

When he’s gone, Red says, very quiet, “Missed you too, boss.”


End file.
